Birds are coming down to rest on the <br />Burnt-out bones of Brighton Pier. <br />Wish you were here. <br /> <br />My eyes lie well, tell me you're here <br />With the birds, and the pier, and my bones <br />Are no longer lonely. <br /> <br />The burnt-out sun comes down to <br />Kiss the sea, and through the peering birds <br />Your voice is heard. <br /> <br />Birds are coming down to rest on the <br />Burnt-out bones of Brighton Pier... <br />And you're here.<br /><br />Annie Jane<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brighton-2/
